


Established Patterns

by thelongcon (rainer76)



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers for Season Four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainer76/pseuds/thelongcon





	Established Patterns

Rick Grimes doesn’t tell, not immediately and for good reason. 

He was a deputy once, before he was a leader of a rag-tag group of survivors, and some things come naturally.  He’s accustomed to seeing patterns, the modus operandi, how people react to stress, those circular behavioural quirks that led to the same crime being committed - the same entry point or tools - the same selection of victim, a desire for routine.  Once upon a time he could turn that particular skill-set outward, but he seems to have lost the knack for it, or the will.  His point of focus has turned insular.  It became _his_ group and what _they_ needed, when Rick was at his best – until at one point in time, in the not so distant past, his focus became singular – what Rick _wanted for himself,_ at a moment when he was at his worse.   The knack for seeing patterns, established behaviour, the livelihood of his past employment as a lawman, well, that was a skill-set Rick didn’t _need_ to apply, not until Karen Jordan’s sudden murder, and the sensation of it returning - the ability to look outward, recognise a likely course of _reaction_ \- is not unlike pins and needles, the rush of blood to a deadened limb.  He did this once, postulated the likely outcome, and once upon a time, Rick did it very well indeed.   

It’s a crawling sensation, a stab of panic in the dark; it’s the muted buzz of alarm.   He can follow those breadcrumbs, predict the ripple effect, and none of it is acceptable.

There are things Rick knows…and some of those things he’s happy to share. 

If he believes Hershel - and Rick wants to, with every fibre in his being – then he’s a good man who took a misstep, who lost his footing on the broken pavement of sanity, nothing that can’t be recovered from, nothing that can’t be fixed.  If he believes Hershel, then Rick gets to come back from the things he’s done, from the person he was becoming and that’s a solace _worth_ believing in.  In his better moods Rick believes Hershel, he can recite him word for word, the gospel truth of a kindly old man, and Rick can extend the belief to the Governor and every single person who attacked their prison.    _You get to come back from the things you’ve done.  You get to **hope** again._   Everyone gets a second chance.  Rick believes that – he says it loudly, within hearing of his own people, he says it to the Governor and his group, Rick speaks it with conviction, sweat slicking his skin, his pulse beating a rapid tattoo.  He can see the glitter of Hershel’s eyes, the stony determination on Michonne’s face.  He can see the pride of an old man versus the disbelief of a warrior, dark and light in stark contrast, two differing beliefs forced to their knees, and reality cast somewhere in the grass between.

It’s Hershel Rick looks toward. 

Given enough time, given the grace to recover, we get to change for the better.  Hershel said it, and Rick was willing to believe him, allowances were made and to make it abundantly clear to _everyone_ in their group, Rick made noticeable changes.  He wasn’t their leader, he didn’t have the right to the title, Rick said an elected council would serve them best, and then he took himself from the running pool and played farmer, cutting up the soil and replanting the earth, until something new could grow, fragile and evergreen. 

He wasn’t their leader, and any decision worth making, was worth making as a group.

There are things Rick knows that he doesn’t care to tell, that once upon a time he was a lawman, and he believes in established patterns of behaviour, that some personality quirks are written into the skeleton, hidden under skin and fibre, masked by muscle, obscured by blood; strip everything else away then that’s the coded message which remains – it’s a core pattern - the backbone that keeps us standing. Everyone gets to come back – Rick does, his son does, hell, he even extended the welcome to Merle, after he tortured Glenn and Maggie to near death – the Governor gets to come back (if he’d only accept it), everyone and anyone gets to come back. 

Everyone except Carol.

Rick believes this and he says it aloud: any decision that affects the group should be made _by_ the group, but he doesn’t bring Carol to the council, he doesn’t allow them to pass judgement on her or debate the circumstances, the reasons, for her crime.  He loads up Carol’s car with supplies, weapons, petrol, and expels her, it’s the first unilateral decision Rick makes after renouncing leadership.  He doesn’t even need to think about it twice.  He’s their leader - Rick can say anything he likes aloud, deny it to the heavens - but that’s a fundamental truth written into his bones, he fought Shane for leadership while cursing the man for making him do it, and when he’s facing the Governor over a tank, it’s the cruel mockery in the other’s man eyes, his knowing smirk, that makes Rick grind his teeth together.

Like recognises like – the so-called council didn’t interest Brian, or Phillip, or the Governor, or whatever else he was calling himself these days – it was Rick he wanted to speak to, one instinctive leader addressing another.

That’s one truth.  But there’s another Rick doesn’t care to say aloud, hidden deep, that forced Carol onto the road without so much as a by-your-leave, because the truth is, Rick _is_ good at recognising patterns in others, and Daryl has one, a circular trend, displayed once every damn year like a fiery comet trapped in orbit.  Bright, ethereal, and too distant to effect.  Daryl’s not an alpha, he doesn’t need the hubris of leadership, the comfort of a group behind him, and while the man recognises the benefits of having people at his back, it’s never governed his actions.

The first time Rick Grimes met Daryl, they were at each other’s throats, dusting up the ground and snarling at each other like dogs.  For the first time Rick had numbers at his side, safety, and Daryl, Daryl was ready to turn his back and walk away from it all for the sake of his brother.  He valued the _singular_ life over the group, or his own welfare for that matter, and Rick might have dismissed it as misplaced loyalty to begin with - of siblings sticking together when they shouldn’t - except Sophia happened next. 

Once can be dismissed readily, twice establishes intent, but a third event is a clear pattern.  By the time they met up with Merle again, when Rick issued his ultimatum – _come back with us to the prison or stay behind with Merle, because your brother is not welcome_ \- Rick should have known better.  Daryl chooses the person in _need_ of the most protection, he always has, he doesn’t even think about it,  natural as breathing, be it his brother cuffed to a drainpipe, left to die of exposure, or an eleven year old girl lost in the woods for the very first time.  It’s Daryl’s established pattern.  He chooses the few over the many and he does it every damn time.

By their third year, Rick should have known better, he never should have let Daryl walk away with Merle, given him the option, the two of them loping into the woods and vanishing, leaving the group behind, once upon a time (when he was thinking clearly), Rick would have known what Daryl would decide as easily as reading a crime scene.

And therein is Rick’s pattern, because he _is_ thinking clearly now, for the first time in months he sees _exactly_ how it will unfold, he might not be their leader in name - the honour given to the council - but he _is_ their leader in spirit.  If he brought Carol back, let his people perform their function of democracy, then Daryl would be back in time for the verdict, and if they threw Carol out then, decided her presence alienated the new members, that she was somehow less trustworthy than Rick, or Carl, (or Merle and the Governor), less deserving of a second chance, then Daryl _would_ follow her, and even the possibility of such an outcome was unacceptable to Rick.  Under no circumstances should it be allowed to occur.  Rick does the only thing he can - he takes away the option entirely.

Rick puts her in a car with food and water, with more gas than he can honestly spare, he points her down a road free of debris, open asphalt and a thousand miles with no hope of tracking, and tells Carol she can’t come back from the things she’s done.  There’s no second chance for her.  That ultimately, she’s done.

He doesn’t share that truth with anyone.

 _You’re mine_ , he doesn’t say to Daryl.  _I decide the welfare of this group_ , he doesn’t admit to Hershel, _this ain’t a democracy, because I was the only one willing to step up, and the position is mine til the day I die._

 _I know you,_ he doesn’t admit, _I know your patterns and your behaviour, and I value you more than she._ There are some things Rick can't speak, but he knows the layout of a crime. 

He doesn’t say any of that, but by the time Rick tells Daryl, days after she’s gone, the man pacing like something caged, his anger raising the hairs on Rick’s arm, he can’t help but wonder how much the archer sees.  Daryl has no tolerance for bullshit, narrow-eyed and pissy as all hell, but for all of that, he won’t bring Rick to task in front of an audience.  Any grievance Daryl has, he’ll speak it in private.  It’s a courtesy Rick can rely on – I know you, he thinks, his blood pumping with the certainty of it – and knows Daryl will be with him when they confront Tyresse, every step of the way.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
